


If we believe (we are alive)

by Moirin De Clermont (Slayer87)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x04 rewrite, Brienne POV, F/M, First Time, Fix-It, GoT spoilers, Introspection, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, maybe a jaime pov will follow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-03-20 12:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slayer87/pseuds/Moirin%20De%20Clermont
Summary: Jaime was special for her.Conventional beauty was not her thing, and while many would say that her attraction to him was natural although unrealistic, she knew herself well enough to know that her attraction to him was not based on the fact that he still was one of the most beautiful men she ever saw.





	1. First Chapter

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing original but it was stuck in my head. I think it will be in three parts, all from Brienne POV, then maybe I will attempt Jaime POV.  
> Dedicated to all the people in the braime fandom who fills my life with amazing metas, wonderful stories and fanart, gifset and analysis and so much love for our two idiots in love.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> EDIT 15/07: thanks to the amazing Roccolinde and scarymonster33 for the beta-reading!  
> 

**If you believe (we're alive)**

 

Alive. They were alive. That was… unexpected, to say the least. 

Their shock over the result of the battle was coming down: the day was the time to grieve all the people lost in the Battle of Winterfell, the night was the time to celebrate the amazing fact that they were alive, breathing and feeling the sparkle of life going through their veins.

Brienne, Jaime and Pod found themselves a spot on the table. Eating, drinking and generally celebrating. 

Brienne was still amazed by the events of the recent hours: yes, they were victorious and celebration was in order, but also she was knighted: she was Ser Brienne of Tarth, a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. The entire moment was still like a dream in her head.

She never thought that was a possibility for her. She was quietly resigned over the fact that she was never going to be a knight in name, so she decided to live as the best of knight she could ever be. And now, after a long, long time, finally that dream had come true. Though, never once in her dream, she dared to imagine her knighted by Jaime. Not that the man did not show up in her dreams (more often than she wanted to admit even to herself), but the combination of the two was a surprise even for her.  Thinking about that moment, it felt right, like it was supposed to be like this. The thought made her smile, even if only internally.

Jaime was special for her.   
Conventional beauty was not her thing, and while many would say that her attraction to him was natural although unrealistic, she knew herself well enough to know that her attraction to him was not based on the fact that he still was one of the most beautiful men she ever saw.  For a long time, she even refused to acknowledge the attraction in the first place, but when she could not lie to her any longer, she thought a lot about it (and endless days on the road were not helping her to stay away from her self-reflection). She realized she respected him, admired him and yes, there was the attraction, but it was nothing like the other people by which she was attracted to in her past. This was different, like a fire in her vein waiting for a spark. She kept herself in check through the years, afraid to show too much, afraid of being hurt again, but he was there, with her, in Winterfell, and he had proven himself.

“Not the fighter he used to be,” he said to her, and maybe that was true, but it did not feel that way, where they fought just hours before. There was a synchronicity in their movement like they were one. Like it was years they fight together. Like they know the mind of the other. 

That was a scary thought. The illusion, the idea that he, somehow, could actually feel the same way about her. Too much pain, too many times. Sometimes,  she watched him looking at her and she wanted to scream  _ stop looking at me like that… don’t make me hope... don’t make me believe…  _ because it was too much to take, yet she never said a word, too afraid that she would never see him look at her in that way.

Drinking and playing games were not her thing, but it was nice to relax (what was relax? If it was the possibility of being totally herself, maybe she was never relaxed, and that was a terrible thought for another time) and enjoy life. 

Until that question. She looked at Jaime, her first thought he must have told him, the second that everyone must know she is a virgin, and why is it so important, she asks herself mostly, since she was so pissed anytime anyone spoke about her maidenhood. 

She got up, reacting almost instinctively, going into her room to calm down and think. That question left her on edge: why a highborn lady could declare almost proud that they were virgin if they did not have husband (in public, at least), but for her it was different? 

It was an insecurity, something shoved deeply inside her, something that constantly remind her that she is not worthy of someone to love. Oh, there were occasions to have sex, if she wanted. Countless occasions. But she does not want only sex, she wanted intimacy, feelings, the thing stories were written about. And now at her age, she though more than once that maybe it was not in her destiny. Maybe she could be a warrior and a knight but not also a lady. So self-deprecating, she told herself. She blamed it on the wine.

Someone was at her door. By the Seven if it was Tormund again she would show him how to return North without an important part.

She was wrong. 

It was Jaime.

 

 

TBC


	2. Second Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I've written the second chapter.  
> Thanks so much for the lovely feedback and I hope you'll like this one.  
> I hope to write the final before August.  
> .  
> .  
> Also, thanks to Roccolinde and scarymonster33 for the beta reading. You both are true gifts!  
> Enjoy.

Jaime was in her room, babbling nonsense about that stupid game.

She drank, again, trying to ignore the way her stomach was suddenly twisting. 

He started to take off his coat, complaining about the heat. And then complaining about the North. The man was a living nightmare. Brienne passed her hands on her trousers, hoping to calm down nerves and wipe away sweat, with little result.

Then, he asked about Tormund Giantsbane, and it dawned on her that he was jealous!

He. Was. Jealous. Of Tormund, of all people. “You sound quite jealous,” she said, expecting him to laugh at her, not hoping but wanting a positive answer, dreaming of something she thought she would never have.

His answer was surprising, even to himself it seemed. 

He started working on his shirt, and Brienne froze for a moment. What was the right thing to do? 

She trusted him, she even admitted it in front of the entire court. She wanted him, so badly her skin was already sensitive. 

Maybe he only wanted to take his shirt off… maybe that was not his intention, so she offered to help him. The second his hands went to her shirt, the realization hit her with the strength of a thousand horses. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, but it was clear what he was doing. 

This was really about to happen, and suddenly she could see everything around her as if watching the scene from an outside perspective.

A moment, and then she decided to take charge like she always did. She was a maiden, true, but this was her choice. This was her doing something only for her.  She started to unlace her shirt, quickly, and taking off his shirt was satisfactory in a strange way. Watching him watching her taking her own shirt off was even more satisfactory. Nothing he hadn’t seen, she realized, and at that moment that bath was looking more and more like destiny playing its own game.

“I’ve never slept with a knight before,” he said, looking at her like she had the power to undo him.   
“I’ve never slept with anyone before,” she answered, knowing he could undo her: the confession was an admission, a plea, her way to say I trust you with this. 

His kiss – her first kiss – was like someone had turned a candle inside her. She felt awkward, but that was just a moment, before instincts she did not know she had started to kick in, and her mouth opened under his, her hands in his hair, his hand on her chick: skin to skin, she felt his chest hair tingling her all over; the evidence of his arousal clear (his cock, though Brienne, his cock is hard… for me?).

The taste of wine and the necessity to breath pulled her apart. There was something she needed to know before giving up completely.

“How drunk are you?” she was willing to wait, perhaps even miss that chance, but she would never give herself to someone not fully aware. She had drunk, but not so much she was not conscious and present at the moment. She wanted to remember her first time. 

“I’m not,” he looked at her straight, and while he seemed very… well…  aroused, he did not seem drunk. “I’m not drunk at all, Brienne. I want to remember forever the first time I’m able to touch you, ” he said to her, making her smile a little. In that thing, like in so many others, they were similar.

“I admit I played the part a little, before,” he added, “just in case you would refuse me, so I’d have an excuse,” and the only idea she could refuse him made her scoff a little.

“What?” 

“Me, refusing you? As if I could…”

That made him look at her with strange eyes, “Are you admitting… this is not new?” she felt like he was trying to say other things, but looking for the appropriate words.

She realized they were half-naked, in the middle of the room, just talking. She took his hand in her and guided him on the border of the bed, sitting there, before taking his golden hand between hers. 

“I cannot say when I start to feel something for you,” she started taking the straps off, “maybe it was after our bath,” she said, looking at him, “maybe it was during our trip to King’s Landing, after you saved me from that bear,” his free hand went to her neck, caressing her scars (someday, she would admit that in time she liked those ones, because they were a reminder of him), making her shiver at the contact, “but no, Jaime, it’s not new, and while I did hope for this to happen, I did not think it would, but here we are”, she finished, kissing the stump, making him shiver: their journey together impressed in their bodies, their hearts, their souls.

“Here we are indeed,” he replied, “but please, tell me if you want to stop, whenever you want to.”

She nodded, her heart suddenly in her throat.

He started to caress her hip, moving slowly upwards, going then down to her arms, taking her down with him on the bed. Their lips searching again, she found she liked kissing, and she liked all the sensation his hand was causing to her. 

A quick kiss on her neck made her gasp, his hand on her breast made her inhale, his lips on her nipple made her moan. 

“It’s so different from when I touch myself,” she whispered, making him look at her in surprise. 

“Do you touch yourself?”  he asked, with a look full of lust.

She blushed, she had never told anyone about that. “My septa told me women are not supposed to do that, and for a long time I was scared of doing so, but one day I was lonely and I tried… I still don’t know why we are not allowed to do that,” she told him, remembering that first time as something very special for her. The idea that her body, so often mocked and shamed, could give herself pleasure, was a shocking discovery, like a secret she was not supposed to uncover.

“Probably because if women discovered how sex can be wonderful, why should they stay with men that don’t know what they are doing?” he said, smirking.

“Then I hope you know what you’re doing,” she answered, teasing him, delighted at the possibility of doing something so simple yet impossible to reach only a few hours before. 

“Show me. Show me how to please you, Brienne,” he surprised her with that request, giving her space to show him how her body reacted to pleasure.

Her hand slid down her body,  cupping a small breast, her breath more rapid as he had copied her movement on the other side of her chest. He added a little kiss just on the tip, making her shiver.

“There are some things you can’t do alone,” his voice was low and deep, and she was dizzy with the sensation of his beard on her skin.

“Please, continue,” he whispered softly.

Her hand caressed her hips, her thigh, and then she was just teasing her centre, her fingers meeting with his. She touched herself like she had done so many times, and he followed just as he followed her on the battlefield. 

She had never been so wet, Brienne realized as his finger started moving on her, his mouth following the path traced by their hands, and a soft blow on her most inner part made her moan. He was teasing too, but at that moment Brienne needed only one thing: she passed her fingers through his hair, guiding him where she wanted too.

The first touch of his tongue on her was… just impossible to describe.

 

Looking at him while he was doing that to her, feeling his satisfied smirk while she battled to keep her hips still, the exquisite pressure of one and then two of his fingers inside her, she did not want to close her eyes but keeping them open was perhaps the only battle she was willing to lose, “Jaime” she heard herself saying, her world shattered and in a moment, or perhaps in a thousand moments, time was never so insignificant,  she collapsed, then regained her sense of reality, while Jaime was there waiting for her.

They kissed, on his lips her scent and taste, and she was smiling like the night before when she thought she could not be happier. Never before had she been so glad she was wrong.

She decided to repay him, so to speak, and with a twist she was on top of him, kissing his neck and exploring his chest. She paid the same attention to his nipples as he did hers, feeling bold, empowered, and just happy. The sounds he was making were enough to drive her crazy, and when she went further down, she looked at him, and without talking he understood what she needed: he took her hand in his and showed how he liked to be touched, a mirror of what they have done before.

She was about to take the next step when Jaime stopped her. 

“Ser, I’m not so young and I think I don’t have that much stamina anymore,” he explained, looking almost sad.

“You know, soldier, stamina can be built. We just have to train a lot,” she replied, adoring the way he smiled at her like he could not wait to start training with her.   

“Come here, Brienne,” he said taking her into his arms and again she was with her back. 

“Are you nervous?” he asked her, caressing her face, looking into her eyes, ready to stop if she just asked. She loved him a little more for that, but she was not nervous. 

“I figured that if my septa were wrong about touching, she was probably also wrong about the pain,” she told him, his cock already poking at her entrance, a promise of what they were about to do.

“My commander is very smart indeed,” he answered with a lustful smirk, before starting to enter her, slowly, oh so slowly, a torture she did not know existed.  No pain at all, just a stretch. She did not feel like she was losing something: on the contrary, she felt full, she felt alive.

The dance they started in unison was a marvel to treasure, like a fight they had to win together.

Fast, faster, faster, until the only things that mattered were them and their act of love.

Jaime for one moment started to pull out, but she made him stay, both fully acknowledging the consequences of the act.

She came, and only after that Jaime came after her.

He collapsed on her, and she held him there for a moment, still inside her, both trying to regain their breath. She kissed him once more before allowing him to slide on her side.

“Are you crying, my lady?”, he caught a single tear falling on her face. 

“Too many emotions,” she could only reply, giving herself body and soul was overwhelming in the best sense, she thought.

“I understand all too well,” was his reply, soft as a feather.

They both fell asleep soon after, smiling at each other, their entwined hands a symbol of their new life. 

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 19/10: After a long reflection, I've decided to end it with the second chapter. Sorry if you were waiting for the third chapter. One thing for sure, they had a happy ending, on Tarth, with a lot of kids!   
> [Come find me on my Tumblr, if you want](https://moirindeclermont.tumblr.com/), and thank you for the amazing comments and the amount of kudos. There are some of my favourite writers and I was so grateful that you liked this!


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